DH ✦ Ch 8

✦ Chapter 8 ✦

“That’s unfortunate.”

Hyunjae’s initial reaction was dry.

It didn’t sound like genuine sympathy. His lazy sigh that followed seemed to Gayoung like a sign of annoyance or boredom.

“So, you’re here to beg me for 530,000 dollars in hospital bills. Ah, it’s been two days—make that 550,000.”

The word beg rolled off his tongue with cynical disdain. Gayoung felt insulted and protested meekly.

“I’m not asking for a handout. I’m asking for a loan.”

“A loan…”

Hyunjae slowly chewed on the word, as if it made no difference to him. It seemed he found both equally ridiculous.

“If I lend it to you, how are you going to pay it back?”

She had anticipated the question. She’d been thinking about her answer all day.

Ga-young straightened her spine. She was determined to convey her ability—and resolve—to pay him back.

“I’ll be starting an internship this June. It guarantees U.S. permanent residency. The salary isn’t much at first, but after graduation, I’ll get a full-time job on Wall Street in New York. It’s with a company that pays well. I’ll work hard and repay every cent—with interest.”

“If you’re as competent as you claim, you might become a high-income earner in a few years.”

“I promise you I will.”

“Let’s say you only spend the bare minimum to live. It’ll still take… what, ten years to repay?”

His dismissal was light and effortless.

Gayoung felt frustrated. She really would work like an ant, eat the bare minimum, save everything. She truly, truly would do her best to repay him.

But it seemed such an effort-based plan was trivial to Hyunjae. The way he lazily turned his head proved it.

Gayoung racked her brain, clouded with embarrassment and desperation.

If numbers didn’t convince him, maybe she needed a different angle. Something like loyalty, sympathy, or a sense of duty—ties through close acquaintances, perhaps.

She clutched at that thought.

“I know this is an unreasonable request from your perspective.”

“It’s not unreasonable.”

“It’s absurd, then. But you know my aunt and uncle. They’re not strangers to you. If they return to Korea, it’ll prevent disruptions in managing the villa.”

“People can be replaced.”

“Still, I’m your employee right now. Please don’t turn your back on a worker in trouble.”

“Technically, the head butler of the chairman’s household hired you. Not me.”

Something in Gayoung’s throat caught. It felt like speaking to a cliff wall.

Shin Hyunjae had no intention of helping. He was a man untouched by noblesse oblige, unburdened by compassion or kindness.

How could she move this man? She had to change his mind—somehow.

She hadn’t wanted it to come to this, but Gayoung reluctantly reached into the most humiliating corners of her memory.

“You and I… have a special connection, too.”

“I saved you from drowning.”

“…”

“And you think saving someone from drowning obligates me to lend 550,000 dollars?”

Only cold sarcasm came back.

There were more reasons, though. You stole my first kiss. You made a sexual joke.

The way he casually summed up that day enraged her. She raised her bowed head.

Gayoung met Hyunjae’s eyes directly.

His once-indifferent expression had changed. His gaze now shimmered with interest, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

“Convince me. Why should I give you the money?”

There’s no reason to, he might as well have said.

Her eyes stung. She bit down hard on the inside of her lip.

A desperate image surged in her mind—her aunt and uncle still recovering, trapped in a foreign prison. That prison was the crushing weight of the medical bill.

Only Hyunjae’s help could free them. Money wasn’t the issue—his wristwatch alone was worth hundreds of thousands. What she needed was the barest shred of mercy.

“Please…”

The sorrow in her voice filled the air as she rose from her seat.

Surrounded by luxury in the suite, with the man perched like nobility, she became the humblest ornament in the room.

She dropped to her knees at Hyunjae’s feet.

“Please help my aunt and uncle return safely to Korea.”

To any bystander, it would’ve looked like she was begging forgiveness for some grave crime.

Hyunjae didn’t stop her. If anything, he seemed to enjoy the woman’s humiliation from his throne-like seat.

“If you help me, I’ll do anything you ask.”

She meant it. She’d lick the soles of his feet, give up an organ.

“Whatever you demand—even if you want me to live as your slave—I’ll accept it.”

A wild thought flickered in her mind.

That moment when he asked “Wanna sleep with me?”—a vague glimpse of male desire.

It was likely her imagination. But if by any chance—just maybe—he wanted her, she’d give herself to him. It was a naive thought born from ignorance about sex.

Gayoung bowed even lower.

“Please… help me.”

For a while, there was no sound from Hyunjae.

She could only imagine that his cold eyes, full of mockery, were staring down at her bowed head.

Ga-young closed her eyes and prayed.

That an angel would dwell in this man. That light would shine in this dark night. Please, please…

After a long silence, an unbelievable voice finally reached her ears.

“Wanna get married?”

She couldn’t believe what she’d heard.

After showing nothing but coldness toward a woman begging for money, a sudden marriage proposal? Hail in summer would’ve made more sense.

Gayoung looked up, eyes wide. Hyunjae was scoffing to himself, like he, too, found it absurd.

“Well, I don’t actually mean marry me.”

Of course not. A poorly timed joke, given the situation.

When their eyes met, the smirk vanished from Hyunjae’s face.

“Get up.”

“…?”

“Let’s talk while sitting.”

“…Okay.”

Still dazed, Gayoung followed his lead. Her vacant eyes stared straight ahead, away from him.

“Look at me.”

At his command, her face turned toward him.

Gayoung blinked once, twice, trying to focus. Perhaps because of all the earlier shocks, looking him in the eye didn’t scare her anymore.

His sharp, handsome features were now deadly serious.

“If I tell you my situation…”

He seemed to have made a clear decision after shaking off a brief hesitation.

“I need a shield to fend off my family’s pressure to get married. A wife, just for show—to convince them I’m already married.”

“…?”

“A private wedding in the U.S., newlyweds madly in love—that kind of act. Can you play that role?”

No, not really.

A woman marrying Shin Hyunjae should be a high-society elite. Gayoung’s confused expression prompted further explanation.

“I have no intention of marrying, but I’m being forced into an arranged marriage this year. If I don’t, I’ll be disowned. So, I want to pretend to be married to someone I can easily ‘divorce.’”

Now it made sense. Marriages tied between families are hard to break, but a fake marriage could be ended anytime.

But… why tell me this?

Was he saying he’d lend her the money if she agreed to a fake marriage?

If that was the case, she couldn’t afford to miss a single word. Gayoung focused all her attention on what he was saying.

“What I’m proposing to you is a contract marriage.”

Contract marriage?

She’d seen that in movies and dramas.

So far, this didn’t sound too bad. If it could solve the hospital bill, she’d even sell her soul to the devil.

“There are three conditions. First, you live with me in Korea for three months. Second, act like my wife in public. Third, no scandals—privately or publicly.”

Layer upon layer of surreal words filled the air.

“You’ll return to New York in the fall to finish your senior year. You’ll only be living with me during summer break. I’ll tell people we’re in a long-distance marriage because of your studies. Later, I’ll announce our divorce.”

It didn’t interfere with Gayoung’s future plans. Everything aligned neatly.

“If the contract is signed, your aunt and uncle return to Korea immediately. You’ll owe me nothing. And if you fulfill your end of the deal, you’ll receive a divorce settlement—one billion won plus alpha. You were once my wife, after all, so I’ll ensure you receive enough to maintain dignity for life.”

It was the lifeline she’d desperately hoped for—an offer from Shin Hyunjae himself.

Just three months of pretending to be his wife. Becoming a divorcée didn’t bother her. The huge settlement? Whatever. All she wanted was to put out the fire right in front of her.

Her desperate heart wanted to shout:

I’ll do it!

But just as the impulsive answer was about to burst out, a cold voice of reason pulled the brakes.